Close Encounters
by UL-532
Summary: Here will be a collection of moments in the primary pairing from a larger narrative I'm working on for NextGen. The versions presented here are not necessarily the final versions as the main story unfolds between these scenes. See A/N for individual sums.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to the first published portion of a Rose/Scorpius fic I'm working on. This excerpt takes place after Rose, suspicious of Scorpius for some strange happenings at school, follows him one night to the Astronomy tower, where she is shaken by a rather embarrassing event that she witnesses. No, nothing like that, get your mind out of the gutter. The M is for safety's sake and later chapters. Would appreciate any reviews, positive or negative, especially regarding characterization and pacing, as this is my first attempt at doing one of these things.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it except copies of the books and movies.

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><p><strong>First Kiss<strong>

In a huff, Rose Weasley began a silent walk down the staircase in the Astronomy tower, Albus' invisibility cloak draped over her tall frame, barely able to cover her whole body. Her mind was raging, the events of the night, what she had just witnessed, all of it made her feel tired, strange, and extremely confused. Scorpius Malfoy, archenemy and ne'er-do-well extraordinaire, was not the person she thought he was. Seeing him in such a state, weak, exposed, vulnerable, had upset the delicate balance of her mind.

He was evil, just like his father, just like his grandfather; he had to be, or else her carefully constructed reality would come crashing down around her. How could she justify her behavior towards him for the past six years if he wasn't a bad person? It was infuriating. But she had witnessed the most heart-wrenching moment of her life so far; when he kneeled at the edge of the wall and listed his failures, his family's shortcomings, what he has done to make up for them, and begged those they wronged for their forgiveness, she felt a slight chink form in her armor. The things she had done, the things she had said, the things she had thought, all came crashing into her mind in an instant, causing her to panic. She had been a positively awful person to him these past years, for no good reason. Oh she could find little things, excuses really; "he was acting suspicious", "it wasn't just me that thought that he did it", "he's a Malfoy". All are just little lies to make her feel better.

Their rivalry had always been fierce, it had to be; she was honor bound to make her mother and father proud, he was driven to prove his worth; such were they, each the archetypical Gryffindor or Slytherin. But she had always laced it with something more, her father made sure of that. It was no secret that Scorpius' father Draco had been deep in Voldemort's camp during the war and that was more than enough for all of British wizarding society to behave with animosity towards the Malfoy name. And it was also no secret that her parents and Uncle Harry had been Draco Malfoy's school rivals. So it was personal; she held little regard for the Malfoy name, even after Uncle Harry publicly forgave Draco and his mother, who were actually victims of circumstance due to the bad choices of Lucius Malfoy. It was about survival. But so was what Harry and her parents did, but they actually fought him and had the courage of their convictions. What was Draco's excuse?

So when her father encouraged the rivalry, she obliged, knowing the history. Then when she had been older and was given more private details of their ordeal, one situation stuck out in her head: what Bellatrix Lestrange did to her mother. It changed her rivalry with Scorpius into a downright brawl for the top spot. Familial dislike became a burning hatred. She knew it was irrational, she knew it wasn't his fault or even his father's fault. But something primal had burned in her, that Weasley temper mixed with Granger stubbornness; such a bad, bad combination that had gotten her into trouble more than once at school. Damn him and his looks, that platinum blonde hair, that pointy little chin, and that insufferable smirk – so much like his father; maddening was he.

It was just then that Rose slipped on an enchanted stair she had forgotten due to her racing mind and lost her balance, teetering to her left and tipping over the railing. She yelled as she hung on for dear life, the cloak slipping off her, her wand and the deactivated Marauder's Map, which she had been carrying, falling down the center of the tower staircase, an open cylinder where the floor was at least a hundred feet down. Then she realized that she was dangling over the edge, her slick palms the only thing between her and a most distressing fall to the hard stone below. She could feel her grip slipping but kept trying to pull herself up. With nowhere to plant her feet she just couldn't get leverage. It was at that moment she wished she were a beater instead of a keeper; swinging that bat would do her upper body strength _a lot_ of good.

The fingers on her left hand felt like they were on fire and she involuntarily relaxed them and lost her grip. As she swung there, hanging by one arm, she futilely attempted to regain her grip. She could feel the tension squeezing her right arm and hand so tightly. In seconds she wouldn't be able to hold on any longer. Oh well, nice life, and with the bonus of not having to atone for her behavior towards Scorpius. She hoped that her parents would forgive her for her stupidity. Her fingers started letting go one by one and she shut her eyes, awaiting the sickening feeling of free-fall before the end.

Just as she was about to let go completely, she felt strong arms take hold of her hand. Her eyes shot open to reveal Scorpius standing above her, holding out his other hand and shaking it wildly with an incredulous look on his face. She snapped back to her senses and swung herself so her left arm could reach his. They grabbed each other's forearms as he pulled; he was so strong. He heaved her over the rail and they fell to the floor in a most unceremonious heap, both panting from the exertion. She just looked at him, and he at her.

After a moment, he picked himself up and held out his hand. She accepted it and was nearly pulled off of her feet. She momentarily leaned into him trying to regain her balance; his chest was tight, hard, and muscular, which she could feel even beneath his shirt, a perfect match for his big arms. How did he do that? Hogwarts doesn't have a gym. After a second too long, she quickly stepped back to a more socially acceptable distance. With a sheepish look on her face, she looked to his, decidedly neutral.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "for saving my life, I mean." He just stared back at her before his eyes narrowed.

"What are you _doing_ here?" he asked, his voiced laced with suspicion. For a second, she felt like she had been sucker punched. The prat couldn't even muster up the courtesy of a 'You're welcome'.

"I could ask you the same thing," she hissed back.

"Look _Weasley_," he said with a sneer, "I couldn't care less why you might want to off yourself, just makes it a sure bet for me to top the class this year. What does interest me is why here, now?" He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned, looking at her with thinly veiled distrust. Then his eyes narrowed again, his right hand raising up and pointing at her. "You were following me!" he whispered. "How typical, the great Rose Weasley follows sinister Scorpius Malfoy on what can only be a mission of evil for Voldemort," he sneered, sarcasm dripping off of every last word.

"I should have known that you of all people would follow me one night. I can't do a _damn_ thing at this school without you watching my every move, waiting for me to make a mistake." He drew up to his full height, towering over her, which was impressive considering that she wasn't all that short to begin with. A menacing look crossed his face and his volume increased. "What is it with you? What have I ever done to earn this treatment? Why do you hate my family and me so much when I have only ever been respectful towards you and yours? What did I do to gain your displeasure besides be the only intellectual challenge you've had in your entire life? What!" His chest was heaving and his face turned a slightly less pale shade of death as he built up.

She simply stood there, her gaze and mind going fuzzy at his words. She looked down toward the ground, the shame making her whole body feel dirty and making her sick to her stomach. She tentatively reached out to his shoulder, delicately laying her fingers upon it. She felt him tense for a moment, but he soon began to soften and his breathing slowed. She could feel the heat radiating from him, his blood nearly boiling with anger. She then spoke quietly; "I don't have a reason, not a good one anyway. I know it will never be satisfactory, but I am sorry." He just stared back at her with fire in his eyes, not convinced. She decided to bring up what she saw earlier. "Malf – I mean _Scorpius_ – I did follow you here, and for all the reasons you listed. I've been an ignorant, selfish bint towards you, but I never realized that until I witnessed your, I guess I would call it, ritual, up there," she gestured to the top of the tower above them. "I never realized it because I conveniently refused to treat you as a person, rather, you were just a Malfoy."

"What does that even mean?" he asked with a pained anger in his voice. "I know what my father and his father did, and I know that I will never escape their legacy completely. But _you_ should know something," he said, pointing at me again. "My father has paid _dearly_ for his mistakes and still does. He tries to hide it, but I've seen it, the _shame_; the horrible, gut wrenching shame. Harry Potter may have forgiven him, but he hasn't nor will he _ever_ forgive himself." He turned toward the wall and leaned his left arm against it, his head pressed to his wrist.

"I see that he worries about me too, and what his bad choices have done to my life. He understands prejudice, having been an excellent practitioner in his youth," at this he chuckles for a moment, then continues, "He knows that the world will hold his sins against me, maybe unfairly so, but it will happen nonetheless, and it just makes him sad. That's why I work every day of my life to not live up to the family name and be something my father wasn't at school: fair, honest, kind. And an excellent student to boot." He repressed a sniffle; "But none of that will matter; my friends and not-friends alike see what you see when you look at me: a _Malfoy_. The only person who doesn't is that prat of a cousin of yours. Why does he have to do that, be so damn noble, such a damn _Potter_?"

She quickly let out a little sigh and took a cautious step towards him. With his back turned, she slowly slipped her arms around his middle and hugged him as his body was wracked by a sob. After a few minutes of just standing there, he turned towards her, a pathetic look on his face. She looked back before opening her mouth.

"I want you to know that I don't see you as a Malfoy anymore," she said. "What I saw before and now proves that. You have nothing to be ashamed of. The world may have prejudged you, and I may have believed it, but now I see something else, something beautiful, a tortured soul trying to atone for the evils of every person Voldemort ever led. No one should ever have to bear a cross like the one you have had to. It isn't fair. It isn't right. And I want you to know that I am here for you, if you want me to be, because the only way I can ever atone for _my_ mistakes is to earn your forgiveness for my disgusting actions."

They stood there, each looking at the other for some time. She noticed his tight frame and sculpted arms. She placed a hand on his shirt again, feeling his hard muscle somewhat relaxed, a good deal of the tension released. She had never noticed before that his eyes were a most enticing shade of green, that his pointed nose had an air of mischief behind it, that his lips were full and less pale than the rest of him. And his skin; girls would surely kill for his complexion. Her hand ran up to his shoulder and down his arm feeling every bit of his powerful biceps. Again she was clueless as to how he managed it. Her other hand soon joined her first on his chest before slipping around to his back. She noticed that he was holding his breath as she explored him, the rest of his pent up tension being gathered as she worked his back to relax him. His eyes were tightly shut, but loosened when he slowly exhaled, the breath blowing over her head.

He brought his arms to hers and slipped up them to her shoulders before reaching the crook of her neck where he began massaging a tension she didn't even know she had out of her. That's what nearly falling to your death will do to you. When she looked up at him, she saw an entirely different fire burning in his now open eyes. Was it suddenly hot in here? Her breath hitched when his hands drifted down to her hips and rested there. Yes, it was entirely too hot. And her clothes were suffocating her. If she could just take her shirt off… Wait, what? She looked at him again and felt as if a coiled snake had settled in her gut. Without hesitation she reached up to his neck and pulled him in for the most intense and emotional kiss she had ever experienced.

Surprised only for a moment, he quickly responded by drawing her to him fiercely and deepening the kiss. She pulled away for a breath before diving right back in and probing his mouth with her tongue. He let her in and their tongues swirled against each other, exploring. She let out a little whimper when his entered her mouth. Though the suffocating effect was gone, the heat had tripled to new levels of boiling. She felt the tension in the pit of her stomach shift lower, and her appendages started to tingle just a little. It felt amazing. No one had ever made her feel like Scorpius did, not one of the slew of pathetic losers she dated had ever done this to her. In truth they weren't pathetic losers until the moment her lips met his; he put them to shame. As they moved against one another she pressed her hips into his and felt something poke her in the thigh. In an instant she opened her eyes and pulled away from him, panting, fear in her eyes, her mind coming back to reality.

"Oh my god," she said, "oh my god, oh my god. What just happened?" She turned to leave.

He grabbed her hand; "Rose, wait…"

She slipped out of his grip and kept going, first walking then running down the stairs. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!" she yelled to him. And with that she was gone. He stood there, confused and concerned, but also content.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry this took so long, it's just been a hectic couple of weeks and I couldn't convince myself to get to finishing this until today. For the context, this immediately follows the last chapter, though a week has passed in between the present of the two chapters. And as a clarification in case there was any confusion: though this chapter is a bad example, because it does follow the last immediately, all of the scenes here are taken out of a larger narrative, and are here for feedback purposes, because if the Rose/Scorpius relationship doesn't jive, the plot of the whole story won't jive. Think of these sort of like vignettes. To that end, enjoy, review, add it to your alerts if you like it, and if you don't please say why. There is nothing better than constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it except copies of the books and movies.

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><p><strong>The Talk<strong>

"Is he still doing it?" Rose asked to no one in particular.

With an over the top sigh, her cousin Albus peeked over his book and replied, "Yep, still looking at you." She groaned and did her best to further bury her face in her breakfast, when her younger cousin Lily asked her, "So, just going to forego table manners and the utensils then Rosie?" before turning to her brother, Hugo, as they both cracked up and slapped each other five. Rose only moaned louder and was about to just lay her head down on the plate before realizing how pathetic that would actually look. Instead she sat up and did her best not to look across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table and the piercing green eyes of Scorpius Malfoy.

How had this happened? She used to be strong and proud, and had never, ever, been embarrassed by anything, except that one night. Even a week later, she still felt as awkward as she had after they shared that kiss. Though she supposed 'kiss' was putting it lightly, as she ensured it turned into something closer to a full-on snog. That was behavior that she was not accustomed to. Sure she'd had her share of tongue eating contests, but never was one as spontaneous, as good, as hot, as the one she had last Friday. What was wrong with her? Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius. Malfoy.

It must have just been the near death experience and the adrenaline and the soul baring she witnessed. Though she didn't often act like it, she did have a sensitive side, and by Merlin that's what this was: a fluke, an emotional outburst, something to be acknowledged and then forget. And she tried; oh, had she tried. But he wasn't making it easy. The next Monday he had approached her after double Charms. He said he wanted to talk. Right, talk. She was sure it would be about how they should just be friends, or try to be, and let what happened go, which was fine with her; but no. He wanted to go on a date to Hogsmeade this weekend, a date! Her mouth had just hung open before she came to her senses and ran out of the empty classroom, not stopping until she got back to her dorm, regardless of the yells from Filch to slow down.

Then on Tuesday he cornered her coming out of the girl's lavatory on the fourth floor and tried again. She shot an itching jinx at him and managed to escape. It seemed Wednesday he got the message and avoided her, which wasn't what she wanted either. She wanted to make up her terrible behavior to him, and to do that she would have to at least talk to him about it. Then Thursday she approached him in the library and tried to talk, but he just ignored her and went back to re-shelving books. Then Friday came along and both of them seemed to have given up on adjusting their relationship when they got into a duel on the fifth floor. Luckily, no one was around as they shot hexes and jinxes at each other. He managed to hit her with rictusempra before she was able to subdue him with a bat bogie hex. As she turned to leave, he managed to plant an extremely powerful tripping jinx on her that sent her wand flailing and her into a suit of armor on the side of the hall. As she fell, the large axe in the suit's hands cut her cheek.

Mortified by what he caused, he quickly ran over to her and repaired the cut and performed the counter-jinx. He apologized and went to leave after helping her up, before clenching his fists and turning around. He strode to her quickly and pulled her into a very passionate kiss. She went rigid and he pulled away, his face burning. She then did the absolute worst thing she could do in this situation: she kissed him back. Their bodies molded together as she pushed him against the wall and continued to snog him senseless.

Then, to her eternal shame Albus came around the corner holding her wand, intending to return it to her. He stood there for several seconds watching her shamelessly grind her hips against Scorpius while they were in full lip lock before speaking up.

"Oi!" he exclaimed, shock and awe evident in his voice, "_What_ the _hell_ is _this_!"

Rose immediately pushed herself off of Scorpius and hopped back a couple meters from him. "Al," she began, "it's not what it looks like!"

He scoffed at her before cracking that _grin_; that _stupid_ Potter grin. "So you weren't just engaged in tongue jousting and crotch grinding with the guy you have proclaimed to be your arch-nemesis in a corridor where no one would have come across you unless they took a bloody wand to the eye, right?" As he went on, more and more mirth crept into his tone before he started sniggering.

With a defeated look and no small amount of redness in her face, she laughed nervously and replied, "Well, then I guess it was exactly what it looked like." At that, Albus broke down into a complete fit of hysterics. After what seemed like an eternity of his guffaws, he calmed down while clutching his side with his free hand.

"Oh Rosie," he said through his laughter, "Rosie, Rosie, Rosie." With his last chuckle, he tossed her wand to her before turning around and walking away. As he retreated, he yelled over his shoulder, "Carry on!" The sound of his laughter could be heard echoing through the hall long after he left.

She turned around, fully intent on hexing Scorpius' bollocks off when she noticed that he was gone too.

And so, here she was, on a beautiful October Saturday, a day she should be enjoying fully and unabashedly, unable to think of anything but Scorpius Malfoy. Of course, after what Albus saw yesterday, he immediately told Lily and Hugo, who had managed to give her more grief about it in the past eighteen hours than she thought was possible. Even now they were quietly chuckling to one another, likely plotting some event supposed to deepen her embarrassment. She simply sighed and said, "I don't suppose you have any advice Al?" When her question was met with silence, she looked over to where he was sitting and noticed that he was gone. She quickly looked around the Great Hall and there he was, at the Slytherin table, talking with Scorpius, both of them occasionally glancing at her.

With a groan and a half-finished breakfast, a crime in the Weasley family if there ever was one, she stood up and strode confidently from the hall. Or at least she tried to, for she hadn't realized that Hugo had taken the shoelaces of her trainers and magically tied them together under the table, so when she took her first step, she fell flat on her face. A few of those around her laughed and giggled while Hugo and Lily were in stitches. With as much dignity as she could muster, she undid her brother's handiwork, stood up, and walked away, but not before transfiguring a pair of oranges into tomatoes and launching them at her brother and cousin. They were caught completely unaware and ended up with tomato all over their faces. They simply looked at one another before breaking into further laughter and giving Rose a standing ovation as she stalked angrily from the hall.

She made her way up the staircase, intending to get some homework done in the library. As she turned down the corridor towards the large doors she was greeted by a voice from behind her. "Oi, Weasley, slow down for a bloke, would ya?" She stopped and fumed as Scorpius caught up to her.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked, ice in her tone. "Want to pull me into another compromising position?"

He simply smiled at her, eyes narrowed, "As I recall, you were the one who made the position far more compromising than I had intended."

She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly like a fish out of water before continuing her walk towards the library. Annoyingly, he kept pace beside her. She glanced at him when he wasn't looking, suspicious. But as she ran through the permutations of what evil he was up to, another part of her mind was distracted. She couldn't help but notice his strong jawline, chiseled cheekbones, and smooth complexion. Even through centuries of limited gene interaction, those traits seemed to remain prominent in his family, and could be described by those more forgiving than her as noble. Then there was his lips, crooked into a smirk, but full and moist, as if he had never been in a cold wind in his life, and his striking green eyes, clearly a product of his mother's side, as the Malfoy men tended to have silvery-gray eyes. They were dark and deep, but not quite right. Whenever he would smile or laugh, it was as if the expression didn't reach his eyes. She figured that had something to do with his life's troubles, showing that they were never far from his mind. It was actually a little sad, to think that no matter what he would always have that shame within him as if it were tattooed across his forehead.

Even in the wizarding world, where much of the muggles' modernity goes barely understood, wizards are still aware of hormones and theories of biology. These are things that young witches and wizards are taught too, because if there is one thing that is a constant across the stripes of humanity it is the volatility of teenaged hormones. So, Rose understood why her body acted the way it did, being overloaded with estrogen, progesterone, and even testosterone due to puberty. But that didn't make it any easier for her as she felt her mind wander through a forest of fantasy, most involving copious amounts of nudity, all involving her and Scorpius, and quite a few involving a large, fluffy bed. She felt her arousal begin to pull on her insides, a tension pooling below her stomach, as if someone was twisting a rubber band tighter and tighter. She was shaken from her daydreaming by Scorpius, a concerned look on his face and his hand on her shoulder.

"Rose," he began, nervousness in his voice, "are you alright? You seemed to have spaced out for a second." She looked at him and couldn't help but imagine him naked beneath her. She closed her eyes and shook her head, as if her thoughts were marbles and could be loosed by simple physical force. She then realized they were standing in the middle of the library, which while empty, they were still rather conspicuous. She grabbed his arm and pulled him behind a stack terrible wizard fiction books; there was another skill the muggles had mastered that wizards had not: creative writing.

"Look," she said, slightly exasperated and trying to avoid letting on that she was just having some not so clean thoughts about him and his "broomstick"; "we need to have a conversation, and now is as good a time as any." She awaited his reply with apprehension, but he seemed distracted by something, as his gaze was sort of far off. She realized she still had her hand resting on his arm and quickly removed it. The loss of contact seemed to have returned him from wherever he was and he slowly nodded in assent. She sighed, closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Scorpius, this past week has been one of the weirdest of my life. After last Friday and what you said, I just am so confused about you." She lowered her arms to her sides and turned away from him as she continued. "I have spent the past six years nursing a grudge against you that, I just realized, but guess I always knew, was unfair. There is obviously a lot of history between both of our families, a lot of bad blood." She turned to face him, resolve in her voice. "But that was the past, and it should stay there. You have never done anything to me that I didn't deserve or ask for, all because of some stupid family thing. I get that your father was in a difficult position then, and is a different man now. I appreciate how you must feel being a virtual outcast from society." She moved to grab his hands in hers. "But it is wrong. You haven't done a thing to warrant it. Voldemort is dead, and has been dead for twenty-five years; maybe it's time we start to forgive those who served him because they had no choice, at least one that wasn't being on the receiving end of a killing curse. I am sorry for my behavior these past years. Can you ever forgive me for being a stupid bint?" She simply stares into his eyes, awaiting his reply.

"Me, forgive you?" he says quietly. "Never in my life did I ever dream that I would forgive anyone. I only ever thought that forgiveness was something I could receive, not give. I have spent my life working to change the opinion of my name, to make Malfoy be less of a synonym of traitor and puppet." He grips her hands tighter. "You may have never had a reason to hate me Rose, but it's not like I went out of my way to be your friend. This stupid competition has done nothing to help that. I thought it was the least I could do to raise my status, beating the daughter of Hermione Granger at schoolwork. I'm fairly certain that there is nothing harder to do in the known universe." She smiles as he chuckles. "But I want you to know I never held any ill will towards you, I only fought you for six years to defend my honor. So, I mean it when I say there is nothing to forgive." They stand there for a moment, the tension like electricity arcing between their bodies, their combined heat building and reinforcing each other.

His hands move to her hips and he pulls her close. She wraps her arms around his neck and brings his lips to hers. They share a soft, cautious kiss, the passion of their previous lip-lockings off to the side. He pulls back from her, a smile on his face. She groans as she looks at him, the tightness in her core returning. He leans in again, and smashes his lips against hers, the passion back to stay. She runs her hands up and down his back feeling the material of his jumper beneath her hands. He keeps one hand at her waist while the other runs through her bushy hair, making small circles on her scalp. She moans against his mouth. He takes the cue and pushes his tongue inside of her mouth, swirling it about. She fights back with hers, forcing her way into his mouth. He groans in satisfaction.

Her hands find his pants and un-tuck his shirt and they make their way under the pressed fabric, feeling the hot skin of his back beneath his clothes. How he was so warm in the drafty castle she didn't know or particularly care. He pushes her up against the stack, his body pressing into hers. She feels a conspicuous lump against her thigh as his hands wander under her jumper and thin tank top beneath it. Unlike last time, she does not stop herself, reveling in making him as aroused as he made her. He feels all along her stomach and ribs before he brushes against one of her very hard and very sensitive nipples. She involuntarily bucks her hips against him, making him moan with desire. Her breath hitches as he shifts himself, his prominent erection now positioned against her incredibly wet folds. She too moans as she realizes nothing more than four thin layers of clothing separate them from something so terribly intimate.

Just as she was about to say fuck it and let him shag her right there against the stack, she heard sharp footsteps crack against the stone floor and increase in volume. That could only be Madame Pince, the ancient librarian coming to do some filing. He must have heard them too, as they quickly separate. They silently adjust themselves to make it a little less obvious they had been engaged in a heated snog with a side of palpable sexual tension. He leans in for one last quick kiss before quietly running down the length of the stack to the opposite aisle, pausing before he turns to give her one final smirk. If the mood hadn't been entirely ruined by that infernal woman than Rose would have certainly lost control and released all of that built up tension right then and there.

As Madame Pince turned into the stack she nearly ran into Rose. While she made up some excuse for why she was in the section, her mind wandered back to Scorpius and his everything. She simply smiled as Madame Pince went on and on about suggestions of excellent romance novels that were in the section, who was clearly more than familiar with them then just knowing the catalog. Rose thought she was already living in one.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Well, that was quick. After finally getting up the desire to finish the last entry, which, I will be honest, I knew where I wanted to go with but not quite how to get there, the magical machine in my head seemed to be stuck on "flood" and this started pouring out onto the page.

A little context: this takes place approximately six weeks after the last chapter, during which time some "serious shit", as Doc Brown would say, began happening at the school and a magical incendiary device kills a number of Ministry employees. Are the two related? Well, that's not important to these excerpts.

One last thing: Thanks for all of you who have added this to your alerts/favorites and to the (currently) two reviewers; all forms of feedback are appreciated!

One last, last thing: So I lied, sue me. Beware the fruit of _Citrus limon_. If you don't like such things, I won't take it personally, but I would call this one tasteful with no sourness whatsoever. Yes, I suffer from the pun disease.

Sorry for the long-ass note.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it except copies of the books and movies.

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><p><strong>First Night<strong>

As the December holidays approached, Rose grew more and more anxious. She had a plan to get to the bottom of the mysterious disappearances that had been happening of late, and thankfully, events had conspired to see that her behavior would not appear out of the ordinary. With her parents' twentieth wedding anniversary near the end of the month, they had decided to take a holiday to the south of France as a sort of second honeymoon. There had been much hand wringing on her mother's part, for they had always spent Christmas as a family and only to the forceful urging of Rose and Hugo had she relented. Her father never had an issue with it, as it would offer them some much-needed time away from the demands of their jobs to "reconnect".

Rose had let slip that they could just stay at Hogwarts for the duration, rather than burden any of the rest of the family, to which her parents had reluctantly agreed, her mother with quite a bit of suspicion. Having heard some of the stories of their youth, she figured that her mother was recalling her time at school. Nonetheless it was settled, and Rose and Hugo would stay the holidays. Albus had convinced his parents to let him stay so the pair would have some family with them during the holidays, and due to Uncle Harry's long hours investigating the Ministry attack there was little resistance to be had. Scorpius had managed to stay as well. Now the three of them could work on getting to the bottom of things.

After a week of searching through what had to be every book on mental magic, theories of apparation, memory charms, and Hogwarts itself, not only once but twice, the trio were no closer to tracking down an answer. Calling it a night, Albus left Rose and Scorpius in the library, the former looking through cross-references and the latter lost in thought. Before she realized how late it was, the sun had almost fully set behind the mountains outside the library windows. She pulled Scorpius from his reverie, and they made haste for their dormitories. But when they reached the staircase where Rose was supposed to go up and Scorpius down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him.

She protested only half-heartedly as the pair reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Scorpius muttered the password and ushered her inside. She had never seen the common room before, and it more than lived up to its reputation. The green walls, black leather furniture, and view out under the lake were breathtaking. It was cozy and warm, a far cry from what one would expect of being under a lake and, well, Slytherin. The room was empty and they found a nice seat by the roaring fire. As she lay against his chest, his arm around her, she was struck by the absurdity of her current position. Not three months ago, she would have found the whole tableau, well, disgusting. That is not to say he hadn't manifested himself in her dreams from time to time; she would have never admitted it before, but he _is_ gorgeous. That was purely physical, and she understood that, animal instinct and all.

But now, though their relationship was not "official" – they had refused to consent to a label when they didn't even know what it was – there was no denying their interactions went beyond snogging for fun and pleasure. Though she hid it from him completely, she did feel something when in his arms, when he kissed her, when he touched her; it was beyond anything she had ever felt from her previous romances – or flings – if she were being honest. And she sensed some of that from him, that same withholding. She also noticed that when they were together his smiles would reach his eyes, causing them to light up with a mischievous twinkle. _She_ made _him_ feel too, made him forget his troubles, only if just for a moment.

She knew for a fact that he had a reputation among the girls at school for not being into emotional attachments. But for some reason, that didn't bother her. At first she believed it was because she too was in it for the physical, but then she started thinking that he wouldn't do that to her, not the way his fiery gaze could make her stomach do backflips, not the way his hand on her shoulder made her feel indestructible, not the way his lips on hers made her body feel like a coiled rope surrounded by an electric field. So she lay there, in his arms, confident that no harm would ever come to her. Is this what love was? Her mind stopped on a dime and her blood ran cold. Love. She had just used the L-word. In relation to a boy she couldn't ever…L… But a small voice inside of her simply asked 'Why not?'

She had no answer.

She looked up at him, his face relaxed, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and deep. It couldn't be, it wasn't possible. She was only seventeen. What does a teenager know about love? Hell, what do adults know about love? She was resolved to find out all she could on the subject. She snaked her arms around his body, causing him to stir from his meditation and look down at her. She inched up his torso to bring her lips level with his. She slowly began to kiss him as tenderly and as passionately as possible without succumbing to the ever-increasing knots forming beneath her gut. He responded in kind, caressing her, exploring her as she continued to pour her feelings into each and every kiss. He was being so soft, which was a stark contrast to their encounter in the library those few weeks ago. Gentlemanly was another term.

It was then that she knew instinctively that something burned for her inside of him same as something burned for him inside of her. She unknotted herself from him and stood in front of him, her hand outstretched. He grabbed it, and she led him back down the corridor to the dormitories. A silver plaque engraved with a serpentine seven hung over the door, and she knew she had the right place. She grabbed the knob, turned it, and pushed the dark wooden door in. The place was just like the common room, warm and dark. She noted that all the beds save one were neat and tidy, and only one trunk sat in the room. Without any fear now, she moved to his bed, and lay on her side, a smoldering come hither look in her eyes. For a moment, he stood in the middle of the room, dumbstruck, before puffing out his chest and striding to her with confidence. She linked her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, his tall frame covering hers.

He found her mouth and began to kiss her again. The tingling in her body increased tenfold, she had never snogged on a bed before, and it was not helping her arousal. Her hands found his back and slipped underneath his shirt, feeling his warm skin that now seemed so hot to the touch it felt like it was burning her. Burning herself, she can't take it any longer, and pushed him off of her and sat up. At first he looked crestfallen, but then, he saw her intent. She finally managed to pull of her shirt and jumper in one go, the suffocating feeling of the clothes reduced. Rather than return to her mouth, he pushed her back and began to trail kisses down her neck, to her collarbone, then finally to the space between her breasts.

He reached behind her with one hand and instantly unhooked her bra; she would have to ask him where he learned _that_ trick later. He tossed the black item aside as if it offended him in some way and gazed upon her once more. She would have normally felt exposed, but he somehow made his ogling seem…tasteful. His hands reached out slowly, but without a signal to stop, they arrived at their destinations. She fit perfectly in his hands; the thought sent a shiver down her spine. He noticed and got that wicked grin on his face. He leaned in and took her left nipple into his mouth. It and the other were so sensitive that she whimpered as he tended to her, first one, than the other, swirling his tongue about them, flicking them. His last tease with his teeth caused her to buck her hips up to his. He groaned in response. Deciding he has also had enough, he too shed his shirt. She can't help but be star stuck for a moment as just observing his well toned musculature made her want to cut to the chase that very instant. Their lips met again, this time with more urgency, as her hands wandered about his torso while he used his arms to prop himself up over her.

Sensing an advantage, she flipped them, so now she was straddling him. With the benefit of gravity, she felt him solidify beneath her; he was poking her in a way that should have been uncomfortable but for some reason kicked her up a notch. She smiled a dirty smile and undid the button of his jeans, and slowly unzipped them. He managed to slide out of them and now is beneath her in nothing but his boxers, which only made his status more evident. She tugged at the elastic waistband and snapped it against his skin, giggling as he gave her a death glare, but the force behind it evaporated as she grabbed hold of him. He was hard and smooth in her hand as she began to stroke his length. His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned in ecstasy. She continued to work him as he bucked up against her, creating a noticeable friction between her legs in the process. She released him and leans down to lock him into a searing kiss. He then flipped them himself, and she groaned as his erection lay against her now burning core. He undid her pants and peeled them off in one fluid motion, the muscles of his arms rippling as he did so. She can't help but be driven a small bit closer to the edge at the sight.

He hooked his fingers into her very inappropriate knickers, which she had taken to wearing in anticipation of just this moment. He slowly slid them down her creamy legs, seeming to savor every inch they fell. He removed them completely and dropped them onto the floor. She sat up and pulled his shorts down, revealing him fully. She spread her legs wide to open up to him. He maneuvered between her legs and guided himself until he skimmed over her center, causing an involuntary shudder on her part and eliciting a moan from him. She grabbed his hips and pulled him to her, and he filled her up. A moment of pain and a tearing feeling made her cry out, and he was ready to withdraw, but she held him to her. As it subsided she moved against him slowly, each small thrust replacing pain with joy until she completely reveled in their connection. He took over and increased the pace and depth of the penetration. She was lost in his eyes, which were locked on hers, as he pushed them both nearer to the breaking point. She cried his name, fisted the sheets and felt as if the whole of her was made of cold fire. Unexpected warmth pooled inside of her as he collapsed on top of her, panting and sweating from the joyous exertion. He kissed her before rolling off of her, pulling her close to him. He pulled the fluffy covers over them as they spooned, and just as she was about to fall into the most peaceful sleep of her life, he whispered in her ear.

"I love you."


End file.
